


Feud?no love.

by Kekgirl21



Category: Old Hollywood
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24959911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kekgirl21/pseuds/Kekgirl21
Summary: This is not accurate, it’s just slowburn enemy to lover lol
Relationships: Joan Crawford/Bette Davis
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

“I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.”, she screamed, running frantically around the room. Joan Crawford, the epiphany of glamor and sex, pacing half naked in her bedroom.  
Her hands shook as she tries to light her sixth cigarette of the day.

“I can’t believe this.”, she murmured, the cigarette breaking and falling to the ground and rolling around. 

“This fucking fuck!”, a cry erupted from the small body, the usually so composed woman sliding to the ground. 

A woman sliding next to her, cleaning the floor with quick strong fingers, before stroking the shaking body. 

“Na, na.”, she whispered softly. “What did she do now , Mrs Crawford.”, her German accent still shining through the raspy voice. 

The body on the ground doesn’t move, until much more stroking and when Joan finally rises her face is splotchy and swollen. 

“I hate her.”, she wiped her face with her hands. 

“I know.”, the woman quickly found a tissue and handed it to her. 

Drying her face, with her slender, long fingers, Joan took a big breath. 

“I’m going to destroy her, Mamacita.”, her voice was still breaking, but her eyes displayEd a kind of hardness you would much rather see in a man than a woman. 

“I know, I know.”, the maid helped her up and guided her towards the lounge, pressing a glass of whiskey into the shaking hands. 

“She said.”, the slim breast heaved with another breath, “she said I slept with every male star in MGM.”, Usually her face was smooth and relaxed, but noW her eyebrows wrinkled in displeasure. 

“I did not do such things.”, she shook her head in disbelief. 

“I know, Mrs Crawford.”, Mamacita stroke the head, that falls back in exhaustion, placing itself in the lap of the useful help. 

“She’s just jealous.”, Joan struggled again to rise up, but the other woman held her down firmly. 

“You should rest.”, the soft voice reached her ears, the firm hands stroking her hair, smoothing it out and Joan closed her eyes, not intending to fall asleep. Shortly after she was breathing slowly and the German woman left her room, shaking her head. 

The next morning the lady of the house rose to her feet at dawn. She frantically washed her body with water, sending Mamacita to get ice from the ice box, placing her face into the cold and embracing the temperature change. 

“Mamacita, today I’ll bring back a gentleman today, be sure not to interrupt.”, she barked, nearly out of the door already, shouting orders towards the driver as soon as her feet hit the gravel outside. 

“And that’s your contract, Joan.”, the big man looked her over, pushing a big pile of papers towards her. “You will just have to sign it.“ 

And just as she took the elegant pen in her hand and swooped it across the white paper the door suddenly swung open.

“What is she doing here?”, a deep voice erupted from the small woman storming into the room.

“Bette.”, the big man had to compose himself, looking around the room to find confidence in one of the other men, that looked equally as unnerved. 

Joans lips lifted in a sly manner. 

“Oh, Bette.”, she took a few steps towards the other woman, jolting her hip outwards, leaning on the table. 

“I’m just signing a contract.”, her voice was so soft, it was almost too sweet, to be true, but her eyes deceived her. 

“You.”, Bette shook with fury now.

“Gentleman.”, Joan turned towards the room full of useless men and smiled even wider. 

“I’m happy to work with you. Thank you all so much for this opportunity.”, she shook a few hands, then turning towards Bette. 

“Bette, dear.”, she lurked forwards to shake the woman’s hands as well but Bette flinched away. 

Unimpressed, Joan smiled again and left the room with swaying hips. 

Before closing the door, she heard Bette scream: “She took him from me.”, with her shrill voice. 

Victory had to be celebrated at the Crawford household. 

“Oh Mamacita, it was marvellous.”, she leaned back on her blue chaiselong. “You should have seen her face, that little bug eyed monster.”, snickering she took another swing of whiskey. 

“Mrs Crawford, can I be frank?”, the other woman looked down. 

Joan nodded slowly. 

“Don’t you.”, Mamacita squirmed in her seat. “Don’t you think you are much better off than to feud with her?”, her eyes darted around the room, not meeting with her employee. 

“Oh Mamacita, this is just the beginning.” 

When her husband came over to her this night, she turned him away. 

“Not tonight Phillip.”, she moved towards her chambers. 

“But Joan, you did such a good job.”, he opened his strong arms to embrace her, but Joan clung to her bottle, more than she did to him. 

“Goodnight.”, she mumbled, her head held now not as high as before. This would end in another divorce, she knew it. 

Mamacita followed her into the large bedroom, helping her out of her clothes and into bed. 

“And she looked so much angrier that I’d hoped to see.”, Joan rambled on about Bette, smiling at the notion of having the power to infuriate the other woman. The woman’s mood shifted suddenly, her face distorting into a cry. “Why does it always end so bad.”

“Maybe.”, the German Woman covered her with the soft blanket and gave her a glass of water.  
She knew better, but she still adviced  
her. 

“Maybe you think to much about her and not enough about Mr Terry.”

As fast as the mood had come, it went away. 

“I don’t think of her at all.”, Joan quipped, sending Mamacita away, but calling out for her a few minutes after. The German woman slipped into the bed and hugged the woman from behind. 

“It’s going to be alright, Mrs Crawford.”, she whispered into the other woman’s neck. 

“But she hates me.”, Joans tears were hot, running down her nose. 

“And I hate her.”, she sniffled, trying to convince herself.


	2. Chapter 2

When she woke up the next day she felt as if her body has turned inside out. It took her a few moments to recognise where she even was. 

“Mrs Crawford.”, Mamacita placed a glass in her hand. “I brought you breakfast and the mail.” She dropped around 50 envelopes on her desk, leaving the star to her morning routine. 

As soon as she could open her eyes the woman swung her slightly wobbling legs out of bed, hurdling towards her bathroom, washing her face, her arms and body in cold water, then downing a glass of the liquid and carefully picking out her clothes for the day. 

The neatly organised rows of dresses and suits, skirts and blouses still created a smile on her face. Choosing a simple set of skirt and jacket, she sat down, rolling up her stockings, putting the clothes with utter carefulness. 

Her makeup took longer than usual, she stared at her face, that used to be so beautiful but was failing her left and right, she plucked a few eyebrow hairs, finally colouring her lips in, overdrawing, then doing it again and again until she got it perfectly. 

The mail waited for her, she knew that until her meeting with Warner’s she had to answer every letter, had to read every line, even if it was hard. 

Reading was something, even after years of practice, that still was work for her, the words filled her head but not her mind. So carefully, she moved her eyes over every line, sometimes whispering to herself, as she wrote back, with her black ink and pen. Fanmail had to be answered, she knew it better than anyone. 

“I own my success to the people.”, she once told a friend, that admired her steady work. 

Mamacita came back in, bringing her a cup of tea, but she pushed it away. 

The minutes before she had to leave for her appointment, she paced around the room. 

“Do you think they will offer me roles?”, she nervously asked her maid. 

“I’m sure.”, she got the answer she wants. 

The big man shook her hand with care. 

“I’m glad you’re here today, I wanted to show you the facilities.”, he smiled, but Joan knew he didn’t mean it. Nobody ever smiles at her because they were genuinely happy to see her. 

“Thank you so much.”, she sank down a bit. 

“My husband.”, again she played the soft lady, “has a very nice dressing room.”, she widened her smile, batting her fake eyelashes. 

“I’ll show you, what’s yours in a minute, Joan.”, he placed his big hand on her waist and guided her through the building, explaining rooms and pictures here and there, half hearted and without much enthusiasm. 

“This will be your dressing room.”, he pointed at a door, far off the others. 

When they opened the door, it took everything for her not to wrinkle her nose. The room was big. Good furniture had been placed inside, it’s clear, she’s the star of the company. 

“Jack.”, she turned, placing a strategic hand on his arm. “Jack, where are the other actresses dressing rooms.”, she looked up at him, trying to hide her disgust for him. 

He guided her down the hall, showing the golden names on the room doors. 

“Your Name will be added this week, don’t worry.”, he taped his fingers on her arm. 

When they reached the end of the hall her eyes fell onto the last door, she smiled.

“I want this one.”, she knocked on the door next to it. 

“Come In.”, a soft voice reached the outside and Joan opened the dark brown door. 

“Oh.”, the young woman straightened her back, obviously frightened to see Joan Crawford in her dressing room, first things in the morning. 

“Hello dear.”, Joan reached for her hand, clasping it firmly. 

“I loved you in your last role, what a beauty you are.”, her voice dripping like honey. 

“Oh thank you Mrs Crawford.”, the young woman trembled slightly. 

“Dear, call me Joan. We are now Co-workers, are we not?”

“Yes.”, a long exhale deflated the slim young woman almost completely. 

“Can I help you with anything?”, the young woman’s eyes looked back and forth between her boss and Joan, clearly confused. 

“Yes dear.”, the older woman guided them towards the sitting area. 

“I wanted to ask you for a favour.”, she looked down, handing the younger woman a glass of water, as if she was the host. 

“As you noticed.”, she continues, “I have joined this beautiful studio yesterday.”, the red lipstick stained the glass, she was drinking from. 

“And now that I’m here, Im going to need a very new dressing room.”, she removed the lipstick from the glass. 

“And I know you and Sandra are great friends, and I wanted to offer you my dressing room, as it is located next to hers.”, she looked up, the young woman staring at her in disbelief. 

“You have such big talents, dear.”, she continued, patting the young woman’s hands, “and It would suit you so well.”

“I couldn’t.”, the young woman looked down. “Mrs Crawford, this is such an honour.”

“Nonsense, ill have my things moved in here tomorrow, you don’t worry about a thing, I’ll take care of it.”, Joan got up and stated:” this view will bring me much greater joy than a big room and glamorous wallpaper.”, tracing the window still with her finger, she turned towards the young actress. 

“Thank you so much.”, she just whispered and Joan shook her hand again, leaving the room as fast as she came in. 

“You play dirty.”, Jack whispered towards her ear. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”, the older woman quipped, smiling as innocent as a murder weapon. 

“I just want to honour her great talent.”

Her backside swung when she left the studio and as soon as she got home that day, she called up her little helpers, as she named them affectionately, barking orders to get her things moved into the new dressing room next to Bette Davis. 

It took almost a week for them to finish her demanding orders, and it drove half of the company mad in the process, the drilling and hammering as curtains were hung up and carpet was changed. In the end the dressing room was more like a big stage, the light hitting anyone that entered and altering the features of the ugliest men to beautiful stars. 

First thing in the morning Joan left with her husband in her car, to go over a few Skripts she had recently been send. 

“Have you found anything that you like?”, Phillip asked her, as if he didn’t know she had gotten the Skripts that no one had wanted. 

“I’ll just have to talk to Jack about some of them dear.”, she patted his hand and he left towards his own chambers, getting ready to learn some lines. 

Jack was not impressed with her speech about good Skripts and what she wanted in a picture. 

“Joan, honey.”, he looked down at her, making her feel as small as a child. 

“This is everything I got for you.”, he raised his arms in resignation. 

She tried not to look disappointed, tried her best not to let her mouth slip. 

“I see.”, she got her bag. “Then I will not do a film.”

She left the room with a frown on her face, heading towards the dressing room. 

“You’ll look like a raisin if you keep frowning like that.”, the raspy voice startled her. 

“Hello Bette.”, she tried to smooth her face out as much as possible, grasping the metal doorknob with her right. 

“If you stomp any louder,” she turned toward the walking blonde,” the people downstairs will think they’ve let in a farmer.” 

Bette sneered. “Try water, Lucille, not Rum before noon.” 

The blonde woman swung open the door to her dressing room and her laugh could be heard though the wall they shared. Joan leaned against the door, panting. 

No Skripts. No work. No money. Of course it didn’t work. Why would anything work in her favour. 

The glass in her hand was cold, the brown liquid burned down her throat. 

She sank down before her vanity, it was pressed against the wall she shared with Bette. 

A laugh rang through the wall, raspy and full and then a mans voice and some hushed words. Of course she would have company over. Joan groaned inside, getting her things and making her way towards the door. 

The laughter still rang in her ears as she entered the door of her husbands dressing room, no one was inside, so she slipped out of her clothes and positioned herself on the sofa. She had to feel something instead of the weird feeling of jealousy and melancholy she was experiencing right now. 

Not before long the door opened and her husband entered, sliding his eyes over her well positioned body. 

“Hello dear.”, she turned on her seductive voice, something she rarely had to do for him.

And even when he hurdled himself onto her, blonde hair and a deep voice flickered through her brain, no matter how much she tried to push it away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is fiction, nothing real!

There is a reason Joan Crawford did not share her bed with men. And now that she was lying awake next to her own she’s reminded why. His heavy arm around her slim waist crushed her and his warm breath coats her skin, not in a good way, rather in a slouchy, wet way. 

She huffed, unsatisfied and sad, thinking about her cool satin bed and sheets. 

When the morning sun rose she was half between sleep and a woken state, groggily coming to her senses, the sleep coating her body and mind. 

“Good Morning beautiful.”, Phillip somehow managed to make a perfectly normal greeting sound so wrong. 

She gave him a small smile and pushes away from his longing arms.

Then she turned away and climbing out of the hot bed. 

“I’ll accompany you today.”, she stated, walking out of the door and strutting down the hall. 

“It’s nice to see you and Mr Terry be so happy together.”, Mamacita smiled her tired smile and fussed with her hair. 

“I.”, Joan propped her head on her hand, sitting on an ottoman in front of her huge vanity mirror. 

“Mamacita I need a plan.”, she darted her eyes towards the mirror, looking up and down herself. 

“What for?”, the woman started brushing her hair, stroking the coloured brown locks. 

Joan closed her eyes, enjoying the brush on her scalp. 

“Bette.”, she sighed, “seems to think she’s the most important star.”, she started rubbing in moisturiser into her bare arms. 

Mamacita shook her head, handing her a mirror. 

“And we all know.”, Joan whined as a particularly knotted stand got pulled harder than she expected. 

“That it’s me, not her.”

The German woman knew her better than anyone, brushing the hair harder, fighting with it like a wrestler. 

“So you want to.”, the woman found her eyes, holding her gaze, “impress her.” Something lay across her voice, making the act of impressing sound like something promiscuous, forbidden. 

“I want them to know I’m the bigger star.”, she tried hard to sound as if she believed that herself. “It’s not about her. I don’t care about her.”

The other woman just nodded, knowing better not to ask about it. 

“So something impressive.”, she whispered as she moved through her closet. 

“Something grand.”, her hands brushed dresses of silk and velvet, red, green, blue. 

Pulling one or two out, she shook her head. 

“This is not working.” 

Mamacita brushed past her, looking for something in particular, pulling out a pair of shoes, a dress, a skirt. 

Then she found what she’s looking for, a new creation from Dior. 

“This.”, it’s Young, probably much too young for Joan. 

“No one should be wearing this at my age.”, Joan sighs. 

“Yet you can still wear it.” 

Joan put the dress on, letting her maid fix her zipper, letting her brush out her curls again, looking at herself. She had to admit, with all the makeup and hair, she looked the part, even now. 

When she got out of the car, hanging onto her husbands arm like the good wife she was, she felt all eyes on her. Someone was screaming, rushing towards them, taking pictures of her, of her smile, of her dress. 

She smiled and waved, signed cards and pictures. This was what stardom was about, the glowing faces, the light in each other’s eyes. A warm feeling for the man that held her arm expanded in her chest. 

“Aren’t you grand.”, someone shouted and all above it, she locked eyes with her. Behind the mob, Bette walked, unnoticed or maybe ignored by the paparazzi, watching her. They met each other’s eyes and Joans heart began beating, fast and hard in her chest, so hard in fact, that she worried it might fall out. 

“Let’s Go.”, she whispered to her husband, the warmth suddenly gone, the feelings for him leaving her body. 

They pushed towards the door, and even after entering she only caught a glimpse of blonde hair around the corner. 

“Do you want to go over some lines with me?”, Phillip tugged her towards his dressing room. 

“Alright.”, she followed him, looking for the blonde. 

They went over a few lines, he declared this is going to be his best picture yet, standing up and reciting his favourite lines. She sat on the ground, her black dress splayed over the floor, the bust so tight on her laughs when he thought he’s funny, and nodded when he’s being serious. 

Phillip was not a bad actor, he was doing his best and Joan smiled for him. An even better actress, in life and movies. 

Someone knocked and Phillip answered the door, a few important looking men stepped in and Joan rose to her feet. 

“Joan.”, they all kiss her hand. When she noticed that they want to talk business, she left them alone, a woman should not have to witness her husbands business.

In the lobby she turned towards her own dressing room, but shortly before she reached the safety of her own chambers someone called out for her. 

“Joan.”, she didn’t recognise the voice, but turned around, expecting a familiar face.

“That’s a beautiful dress there.”, a young man approached her, stepped close. 

“Oh thank you, mr?”, she declared. 

“Smith.”, he stepped even closer now, nearly breathing in the same air she was. 

“I.”, she starts, but his hands pressed her against the wall. 

“You don’t get to talk.”, his hands closed around her neck, she struggled to breath and tried to scream. 

“Don’t scream you cunt.”, he was nearly panting now, grabbing her harder, while she tried so hard to hit him, but his strength was much greater than hers. 

Then all of the sudden the door flung open. 

“If you don’t let her go I’ll shoot you in the head.”, the clicking of a gun broke through the air. 

The mans eyes widened, he immediately let go of her and she bent over, taking deep breaths in, rubbing her neck.  
Coughing hard, she locked eyes with Bette, water in hers, anger in the round orbs, looking back at her.  
“Thank you.”, the brunette whispered. 

Bette got ahold of the man, jerking the gun towards his face and with hard hands pulled him towards the lobby. Soon after the police entered the building, questioning the woman, that had sunken down on her floor. 

“He just grabbed me.”, Joan repeated over and over, nearly crying. The police officers were all very kind, reassuring her, that they would station an officer in front of her house. 

Phillip ran towards her, as she left the building, accompanied by two officers. 

“Joan.”, he panted. “What happened?”, he embraced her, hard. 

She went numb, nearly fainting in his arms and he carried her to the car. 

The pictures of her slim, numb body were all over the news the next day, rumours of Bette Davis nearly shooting her all over the press. 

“She saved me.”, Joan whispered again and again, while she rubbed ice all over her face. 

“She saved me, Mamacita.”, tears filled the dark eyes again. 

“She did, Mrs Crawford.”, strong hands helped her out of her beautiful dress and into a nightgown. 

“Will you stay tonight?”, Joan felt silly asking, yet she could not sleep alone. 

Phillip only would keep her from resting, yet a woman at her side would be beneficial for her sleep. 

They both lay on their backs, starring at the ceiling, everything spinning around. 

“She saved me.” She whispered and finally closed her eyes for a minute. 

“She doesn’t hate me.”, the final words felt like a confession,of something important, because Joan knew that it was. 

The woman next to her moved her face. 

“You took the man away from her, shell never forget that.”

It hit her more than the events of the day, tears formed again, rolling down the white cheeks. 

“I never wanted to hurt her.”

They both fell asleep, exhausted by the day, both understanding the gravity of the word and the masses of meaning between the lines. 

Joan Crawford didn’t hate Bette Davis, she in fact, never hated Bette Davis. She liked her.


	4. Chapter 4

The shock still in her bones, she stayed home the next day. The children were happy to see her, she paraded them around the house, Mamacita walking behind her, like a lost dog. 

Joan sighed deeply, staring outside the big glass window, the sun breaking through the clouds. The weather had been stormy the last few days, yet today the temperatures were rising, the sun strong and warm. 

“I’m going to go tan.”, Joan declared. 

Her right hand held out her arm, catching clothes, that were being removed by the second, soon Joan stood there, bare naked, clutching a towel to her chest, stepping outside of her house into the garden. 

The sun reflected on her white skin, warming her up, creeping into the chilled bones and she sighed in pleasure. 

“You should use sun oil.”, a firm hand stated massaging her backside, Joan propped her head on her arms, letting her maid oil her up. 

“You take good care off me.”, her voice dropped a bit deeper, sleepy eyes blinked at the other woman, grateful. 

“Have you thought about how you want to thank Mrs Davis?”, the working woman sat down on a lawn chair a few feet away from the sunbathing goddess. 

Joan had thought about it all night. Nothing seemed to be worth saving her life, nothing would be able to express how she felt. 

“Flowers, maybe.”, she sighed. It would not be enough. 

“Yes, what kind should I order?”

“Roses.”, the answer was fast and firm. 

“White?”

Joan went quiet for a while, her child played in front of her, but she did not acknowledge them. 

“Red. 55.” She reached out impatiently, quickly jolting down a few words on a white card, handing it her maid to attach to the flowers. 

Mamacita write down the order, jumping up and phoned the florist. 

When she came back Joan had turned around, her eyes closed in peace.

“The flowers have been send and should arrive in the next hour, if you need anything, ma’am,” the older woman whispered, “ill be in the kitchen.” 

She left the star alone with the warming sun. 

The sun held her in her arms like a mother holds a child, lulling her into a light sleep, surrounded by her playing children, sunglasses on her nose, bare body touching the grass. 

She was disturbed by a screeching noise. Sleepily she removed her sunglasses just in time to see a figure coming outside the house, stomping towards her, holding a bucket, followed by a nervous Mamacita. 

Quickly she grabbed her towel covering herself. 

It was Bette, that rushed towards the naked woman. 

“I don’t want your gifts.”, she plopped the bucket full of roses next to the brunette, a frown on her face. 

“Hello Bette.”, Joan crossed her arms over her chest, watching Bettes big eyes follow the movement. 

“I. Don’t. Want. It.”, she repeated, clearly in anger, shaking her head, then turning around and angrily stomping away. 

“But you saved me.”, Joan shouted over the lawn, raising her arm to stop her. The towel fell, she caught it around her waistline, Bette turning around in the same moment, quickly blushing as she exhaled, stopped dead tracks and just stared for a moment. 

The brunette covered herself again and smiled. 

“See something you like?”, she walked towards the other woman, now feeling more like she had some sort of power over the other women. 

“On the contrary.”, Bette quipped, quickly turning around, but Joan saw a blush creeping up the white neck. 

“I just wanted to be nice.”, Joan brushed a piece of her hair behind her own ear. 

“There is no need for that.”, Bette muttered and then left the estate for good. 

It felt like victory and Joan went the opposite direction, laying down again, smiling the whole afternoon.   
She now knew something about Bette, something she liked, even if she would not admit it. 

The next morning she hurdled out of her big bed, going through her morning routine, while whistling her favourite tune. 

“Mamacita, get me a dress that shows of my chest.”, she ordered in a light tone. 

The blue dress complemented her eyes, her now tanned skin and it dipped down dangerously. Everyone, not matter who would not get passed her bosom. 

It was designed that way, and Phillip could not take his eyes of her, the whole car ride. 

When she reached her floor, she waited, crossed her fingered mentally, to arrive at the same time as Bette. 

When she opened the door, and walked down the hall she heard the door open and close. The noise the other woman made were unmistakable. No one walked like a truck driver more like Bette did. 

“Bette.”, Joan turned around just as she reached her door, blocking the way to Bettes dressing room. 

Bette stopped in her walk, her eyes fixed on Joans face, but her will was breaking and they wandered down quickly, gliding over the long neck and reaching the neckline. Then shooting back up and widening in shock. 

“Tramp.”, she whispered, but her voice broke for a split second. 

“Have a nice day.”, Joan reached for her own door knob and pressed inside. 

2:0, for Joan, she took a swing of whiskey, smiling to herself. 

Then she send for 50 red roses, that would be delivered to Bette Davis dressing room, a card attached, saying: “Always with the eyes.” 

When the roses were delivered a scream reached Joans room, Bette muttering something to herself. “I DONT WANT THEM, BRING THEM BACK TO HER.”, the door slammed shut, then opened again. 

“Give me the note.”, Bette demeaned, then slapped the door shut again.

Joan took the roses and handed all of the men she crossed paths that day one.


	5. Chapter 5

Phillip shuffled though his papers, pinned together just by a paper clip, scratching his face. 

“So no more Skripts?”, absently he asked the woman sitting on his dressing room floor, before his feet. Joan had sunk down, her legs strategically placed so that everyone that entered the room would see them first. 

Mamacita had put out another new dress, without her asking, and Joan never felt more beautiful, more desirable than today. The deep blue silk brushed against her skin, aroused her senses and brought out her shining eyes. Bette was no where to be seen, the moment she had entered the building she had been looking for the blonde. 

“Joan, honey did you hear what I said?”, Phillip poked her arm, concern lacing his attractive features. 

“Yes, dear.”, she nodded, not knowing what the heck he had said to her. 

“You’ll find a nice story.”, he patted her arm and began reading his lines again. 

“I won’t participate in a movie I don’t stand behind.”, she huffed. 

“Yes darling.”, he probably did not care. Women should not be working anyway. 

“Bette came by yesterday.”, Joan placed her head near his leg, looking up at him reading.

“Oh how nice, what did she want.”, his hand found it’s way into her hair, probably making a mess. 

“She wanted to kill me.”, Joan snorted uncharacteristically at the thought. 

“That’s lovely.”, he nodded. Joan sighed, marriage was hard. Men never listened, no matter how hard you tried. The old Joan had maybe screamed or made a cutting remark about this, but the new Joan just held still, let him pet her hair with clumsy hands and bare it. 

“I’m glad she saved me that day.”, the good thing about men not listening was that one could skip the stop at the church for confessionals. 

“Yes me too.”, he moved his lips, while trying to understand a particularly long sentence. 

“She’s a beautiful woman.”, Joan continued, playing with the end of one strand of her hair. 

“Not as beautiful as you are.”, he absentmindedly added. 

She got up, kissing him on top of his head. 

“I’ll be back shortly.”, she left and he did not look up. 

I’m her own dressing room she sat before her vanity, staring into nothingness. 

Yes Bette was beautiful, but was that reason enough to think about her in her bath? 

Joan was not new to sapphic feelings, but acting on them had always left her with tremendous guilt, never leading to anything serious, or at least anything while in a sober state of mind. 

Not that she was often in a sober state of mind. She took another sip from her flask and turned towards her turntable. The music she chose was melancholic and soft, she turned it up up up and let it swallow her and her sorrow. 

Someone knocked on her door, she stumbled toward the entrance, trying to put herself together, wiping the tears of her face, straightening her dress. 

She opened to a young man, slightly trembling, holding 50 red roses in a bucket. 

“For you.”, he fled as soon as she took the roses from him. 

A card had been placed into the flowers, she opened the white envelope and read : turn the fucking music down or I’ll shoot you.  
Mrs Davis. 

Joan chuckled to herself, shouting: “you wish.”, through the wall and put the music on full volume. 

When she left her rooms Bette opened the door, looking her up and down, sneering: “it’s not even noon, Lucille.”, then her eyes swept over her bust, a tingling feeling spreading over the rather drunk Joan. 

“Look as much as you want.”, her voice rang in her own ears, as she tried to stand up straight. 

“A gentleman send me the flowers, I just reused them for you, I know you never get any.”, Bette Held open the door. 

“Regifting. How classy of you, is that a common Yankee practice?.”, Joan stepped through the door, never looking back, her backside swinging from left to right, she trusted Bette was looking. 

When she reached Phillips door she heard a woman laughing, she stopped and listened. 

“Oh how thoughtful you are.”, a young voice ringing through the door. 

“Yes dear.”, her husband smiled, she could tell by the tone in her voice. 

Shocked, she slid down the door, collecting herself for a moment. Cheating. Nothing she didn’t do, but for her husband to find another woman? It hurt. 

The sun hit her harder than she expected, as she left the building, she struggled with her purse, trying to find a match for her cigarette. 

“Here.”, she heard from behind, Bette leaning against the entrance, one foot propped up the white wall, a cigarette in one hand, matches in the other. 

“I should have known you had a match.”, Joan took the matches, the cigarette already in her mouth, it lit on the third try, her hands shaking slightly. 

“Damn it.”, she muttered, taking a deep breath, finding her flask in her purse. 

“I should have known, you had some booze.”, Bette held out her hand, taking the flask from her, taking a swing. 

“Hard day?”, Bette closed her eyes, the sun lighting her face up. 

“She’s beautiful.”, Joan thought, quickly pushing it aside. 

“One could say that.”, she sighed. 

“How’s Phillip doing?”, Bette opened her eyes slightly, blinking at her, taxing her. 

“Ask the girl in his dressing room, hows Arthur?”, Joan propped herself next to Bette, leaning her head back. 

“Ask the girl in my own damn bed.”, Bette sneered, looking at the woman next to her. 

Joan chuckled. “Men.”, she said, disgusted with the whole gender. 

“Oh to be able to live without them.”, Bette sighed. 

Joan looked up, thoughtful. 

“Weve got the money.”, she then declared. 

Bette snorted unladylike.

“It’s not about the money isn’t it, Lucille?”, she practically spat the words out. 

“Then what is it about?”, Joan blinked into the sun, the alcohol clouding her senses, the woman before her made into a goddess by the setting sun. 

“Sex, Lucille. Sex.”, Bette stated matter of factly. 

Joan blushed, looking down. 

“Oh don’t play coy with me.”, Bette laughed. 

Joan shook her head, looking into the other woman’s eyes, holding her gaze, suddenly noticing a slight blush, creeping up the blondes neck. 

“The only thing a man can give you is an orgasm.”, Bette laughed her deep, smokey laugh, Her head thrown back. 

Joan pushed her hips forward a bit, suddenly wide awake. Her back lifting off the wall, stepping closer to the other woman, wanting to brush past her, but nearly colliding with her, because the other woman did not move out of her way. 

“Anything they can do, I can do better.”, she muttered, as soon as her body sliding alongside the blondes. 

She heard the gasp but did not turn around. 

“3:1 for me.”, she thought to herself. “I’m getting good at this.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Who will attend?”, Joan switched the phone from one ear to the other, her right hand hurting under her body weight. 

“Oh a few people.”, the woman on the other line, that had invited her to the party sounded relaxed. 

A long list of names followed, the big people of the town were coming and Joan waited patiently for a certain name to pop up. 

“Yes and Bette Davis.”, the woman finished, “she miraculously told us she’d come.” A smile erupted on Joans face. She had avoided Bette on purpose, after last week, wanting to give her space. 

Men were easy creatures, when played right they liked you after five minutes, women? Needed time and dedication. It was a game of pressing the right button at the right time, with very sensitive fingers. Joan decided she preferred women much more to men. She had accepted the simple fact that she was attracted to Bette Davis a few hours ago, deep into the night, so now her goal had changed. 

“Is there going to be a dress code?”, she asked. 

“No no, Joan.”, her friend laughed on the other side. 

“Well just play cards and drink all night long, maybe dance for a while.”, she declared. 

“Well you know I got to ask!”, Joan already planned her outfit in her mind. 

Mamacita opened the door, bringing in a glass of water and a few slices of cucumber. 

“Marvellous.”, Joan exclaimed, and exhaled. 

“I’m looking forward to it!”, she meant it for once. Phillip was not going to join her and for once she was free to do what she wanted. 

The minute she got off the phone she called in Mamacita. 

“Buy another set of roses and send them to her with this.”, she handed the maid a white card

“I’ll pick you up at 6.” Written with black Ink on it. 

The roses were send back almost immediately, but another card was attached, reading:  
“I hate roses. Stop it. If you are late I won’t go.”

Joan Crawford never was late. She drove her own car towards the house of Bette Davis, her hands in white gloves, her feet in beautiful shoes. 

Before she could get out and open the door, Bette had already opened the passenger seat and slipped inside the car. 

She wore a simple dress, nothing fancy. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”, she quipped, turning to look outside the window. 

Joan started the car and the radio started to play a happy song. 

“I’m just letting you do this, because I love card games and my car broke down.”, Bette state’s right before they arrived at the party. 

Joan just smiled, shooting her a quick look. Bette looked right at her cleavage, noticing she had been caught, blushing and looking away. 

They entered together, hugging and kissing around the room full of co workers. 

The host shoved them both towards a couch, they practically fell onto the soft cushions, sitting way to close together, as other people sat next to them. 

Joan felt Bette trying to move away from her, but the man sitting next to her eyed her with big interest, so she turned her legs towards Joan. 

A set of cards was passed around and they both stared to engage in a game. 

“Don’t you dare to cheat and look into my cards.”, Bette whispered, glaring at Joan, holding her cards before her chest. 

“I’m not looking at your cards, Bette.” Joan whispered back. 

Joan won the set, and drowned a drink, that had been handed to her. 

Bette huffed and took her own glass. They started to talk to the round, staring another round of cards, not playing with the utter most seriousness. 

Joan decided it was time. The next time she tossed a pair of cards onto the table, she took a drag from her cigarette and rested her hand between hers and Bettes outer leg. The flesh burning into her hand, she concentrated on her cards. 

Bette nearly twitched under her hand and it was only her knuckles brushing her thigh. Joan thought about what she could do with her full hand on that thigh. 

Would you mind poring me another drink, she removed the hand and reached across Bettes neck, to get the attention of a young man that tried to take the glass form her without having to stand up, she reached further, her body now pressing into the blonde, her chest at the other woman’s bare arm. The man finally got her glass and obeyed her command. 

Woman shifted under her, and when she sat back down, she herself removed her legs from Bettes away. 

“Aren’t you a beautiful lad?”, the man next to them moved closer to Bette, who in return, out of reflex probably, moved closer to Joan. 

“ not for you.”, she snapped and threw her last card on the table.

“I win, you all loose.”, she leaned back, so close to Joan and Joan felt her relax a bit, when the man turned away from them. 

The people around them started chatting about various topics, and Joan listened half heartedly to her friends telling a long story. Her hand wandered again, first just sitting on her own lap, she let it smooth over her dress, move further, finally resting on Bettes stocking clad knee, the dress she wore had hiked up from sitting down. 

Bette looked straight ahead and no one seemed to notice it, but Joan felt the skin under her light up. 

“Excuse me.”, Bette stood up suddenly, walking over legs and bodies, of people sitting on the floor. 

Joan followed her to the ladies room, closing the door behind them. 

“What are you doing, Lucille.”, Bette turned towards the mirror. 

The alcohol in her system made Joan brave. 

“You know what I’m doing Bette.”, she stepped forward, Bette eying her in the mirror. 

“I’m not playing your mad game.”, Bette stepped backwards, her eyes telling a different story. 

“What game?”, Joan played innocent, it was one of her best roles in life. 

“I don’t have to explain it to you.”, Bette quipped. 

Joan stepped forward, one, two steps, the fire between her legs telling her exactly what it was she was trying to do. 

The third step she felt the heat coming from the other woman’s body and then she was nearly touching her. She didn’t dare bringing her body to collide with Bettes yet, but she was close. 

Joan inhaled the scent of the other woman, somehow earthy, yet ethereal at the same time, her nose nearly brushed against Bettes neck. 

Bette closed her eyes and then for some reason, that she could not explain herself, she stepped backwards, her body now pressed into the front of the brunette. Joan could feel her breasts press into the woman’s backside, her face pressed into her neck.

Joan lifted her hands, placing them on the hips of the other woman, stroking her way up, she groaned in her own desperation to be touched. Her lips found the white skin of her neck, lipstick leaving a mark on the fair skin. 

Bette was panting now, unable to keep her eyes open, nearly moaning as the soft lips nipped at her pulse point. 

But Joan knew better, she let go of the blonde, as soon as she had been satisfied enough, leaving the bathroom and a worked up Bette Davis, then returning to the party and ignoring her co-star until they met to leave in Joans car.

No one spoke on the car ride back, Bette looking forward the whole time, trying not to blush. It was unexplainable how she got so turned on by a simple kiss, she could still feel her legs shaking. 

“Have a good night, Bette.”, Joan smiled at her, then winked and drove off. 

Both women lay in bed that nigh, hands between their legs and thought about the other one. One knew exactly what she was doing and one was terrified out of her mind, about what this meant about herself.


	7. Chapter 7

“Joan, sweetie.”, Jack walked around the big round table, leaning in front of her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

He sighed. 

“I need you to star in a movie.”, he insisted. 

“Then give me a good part.”, she felt small in front of the big man. 

“There are no good parts for someone like.”, he paused.

“For Someone like what.”, she got angry, her face distorted. 

“Like me? I’m 38 for gods sake, not 60.”, she pushed her chair back, standing up to quickly. 

“Am I to fat? Is that what it is? Do you want me to starve myself again?”,she raised her voice now, shaking her head. 

“I’m the smallest girl here, my face is good, I can dance, I can sing. What else do you want?”, she pushed her hair back. 

“This is not fair.”

“No Joanie.”, he looked down. 

“Then what’s keeping you from giving me good roles, Jack.”, Joan had her standards. She would not play old and alcoholic.

“Bette never made a fuss about this.”, Jack grabbed her by her arm, hard. It would leave a mark the next day. 

“Look at me Joan.”, he forced her close, her breath hitting his face. 

“I won’t pay you for doing nothing.”, one hand on his chin, he looked at her with hurt eyes. 

The small woman fought in his arms, finally removing her arm from his grasp, it hurt. 

“Fine. Then don’t pay me.”, she screamed. 

“Okay.”, he shouted back. 

Her mood suddenly shifted, she sank into the chair, eyes empty. 

“We’ll find a good story for you joan.”, his voice smoother, he brushed his hand across her arm, she flinched. 

“I’ll find something, Jack.”, she sighed, getting herself back up. 

“I’m sure you will.”, he ignored the tear that was running down her face. 

“You are beautiful, you know that right?”, he guided her towards the door.

Before she exited the conference room his hand dropped lower. 

She turned, his big body trapping her between the door and the room. 

“Oh so you will sleep with me, but I’m not good enough for a good movie?”, her voice mocking him and he let go of her waist. 

“Oh the devil of a woman.”, he whispered to the empty room. 

.........  
When it knocked on her door she tired to fix her face, expecting Phillip. 

“Come in.”, she frantically brushed over her hair, trying to look like she did not spend the last 30 minutes crying. 

The door opened, Bette leaning against the door frame. 

“I want you to leave me alone.”, the blonde put on a wall of an unreadable expression. 

“I don’t know what ideas you got there in that empty head of yours, but I’m not engaging in these lesbian actions, that’s not me, that will never be me.”, she stomped her foot, ready to leave the room without an answer. 

Joan looked up from her lap, the tears in her eyes forming again, her eyes truly hurt. 

“Lucille?”, Bette saw the rawness, the vulnerability in the woman before her. This was not Joan Crawford, the movie star. This was a broken woman. 

“Are you okay?”, even if Bette was sure, she wanted nothing to do with the woman, that confused so much, she would never leave someone in their sorrow alone. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, you can go now, I won’t talk to you ever again.”, Joan turned away. 

“You clearly are not.”, Bette closed the door behind her, stepping closer, cautiously minding the bottle and clothes on the floor. 

Bette sat on the floor before the ottoman, her big eyes concerned. 

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that.”, she stared, but Joan shook her head. 

“Of course you meant it like that.”, the brunette turned her head even further, trying not to look at the woman before her. 

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, it was never my intention.”, Joan apologised, a tear now running down her cheek. 

“Its alright.”, Bette got up, looking for a match, lighting two cigarettes, handing one to the other woman, then stepping towards the sofa, sitting down. 

“No it’s not.”, Joan turned towards her, facing her now. 

“Im just not a lesbian.”, Bette tried her hardest to sound convincing, after yesterday she wasn’t so sure anymore. 

Joans mood could change as quickly as the weather at sea, and Bette noticed it to late, Joan already swinging her long legs of the small seat, starking over to the other woman, sitting down close, not touching her, but invading her private space. 

“Well neither am I.”, she murmured, already feeling Bettes body reacting to her. 

The vulnerability completely vanished from her face, replaced with a look of deep interest.  
She had the capacity to enchant everyone with her eyes, with her gaze. Bette shifted beside her. 

“Have you ever made love to a woman, Bette?”, Joan shifted back, propping her legs up the sofa, tugging them under her body and letting her arm drip over the backside, the other dangling off the cushions. 

Joan could feel Bettes eyes on her, closing her own blue orbs and waiting for an answer. 

“I have never even thought about it, have you?”, the blond blatantly lied, trying to get the conversation back into her hands.  
Pictures of yesterday afternoon, Bette lying on her own bed, imagining Joan next to her , flashed through the blondes mind. 

How Joan did this, changing her moods from utterly devastated, to sensual in seconds, Bette wasn’t quite sure, but she felt the feeling of yesterday creep up again, a blush following. 

“Thought about it?”,Joans voice was slick, deep, sliding it’s way into a Bettes mind.

She chuckled softly. “I think about it all of the time.”, she took a glass that had been placed on the table in front of them, into her hands, taking a swing of the amber liquid. 

She noticed the wheels turning in Bettes head. Trying to decide weather she’d play along or leave the room seemed hard. The blonde was torn between morals and emotion, but Joan could practically smell the blonde from her seated position. 

The brunette dragged her eyes over the blondes body, the reclined position allowing her to access of all the places she wanted to see.  
Bette clenched her legs in want, her body was telling her to do something entirely different. Joan followed the movement with her cautious eyes. 

“Maybe you should think about it.”, Joan took another drag form her cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air. 

Bette made up her mind, she could not let her confused body make the decisions here.

“I’d much rather not.”, she pushed herself off the sofa, heading towards the door. 

“If I can do this much to you with my eyes, imagine what my hands could do.”, Joan looked at her own, white hands with the red nail polish. 

“Imagine how my hands could choke you.”, Bette shot back, a hand on the door knob. 

“Oh I imagined that yesterday, when I came home and took a long, warm bath.”,Joan murmured and the blonde huffed I’m response, the mention of what Joan did last night, bringing back memories to her own hands on her body. 

“Thanks for coming bye, darling, I’m glad you are leaving your scent on my couch.”, Joan smiled her sweet innocent smile and Bette left, her mouth open, as she gasped in shock, the feeling between her legs throbbing and bothering her the whole day. 

Joan came back home, pushed Phillip onto her bed and drowned herself into the man she did not want. 

Bette would be seduced by the woman, if only she knew how. 

“I know, she likes my chest.”, Joan thought to herself in bed that night. Maybe I should venture into that territory.


	8. Chapter 8

Phillip kissed her on her head, watching her heading towards her own room, earlier than usually. 

She had a kind of swing to her hips that promised mischief, the blue eyes twinkling from the fair face, smiling at everyone that she crossed paths with. 

Joan had a plan. A great plan, to be exact, it had taken her all night to come up with this rather cunning plan.

It was a 4 step program. First she had to prepare the room. Then she had to prepare herself, after that she would get Bette to come to her room and finally she would get Bette. Easy as that. 

She properly cleaned the luxurious room, moving a few pieces of furniture so that the view was not disturbed by a chair. The chaiselongue was heavy, yet she pushed it a bit more into the Center of the room. Excitement bubbled up in her chest, she smiled, humming a simple tune. 

When she finished redecorating it was time for her second step. She removed her dress, stepping out of the silk, then moisturising her skin and finally taking of her undergarment. She was left with an off-white half slip, that covered her bottom, but nothing else, bare breasted she stood there, looking at herself in the mirror. 

“You look good, Crawford.”, she whispered to herself, grabbing her flask. 

Then she heard steps, then Bettes door closing, indicating the woman had entered her dressing room. Joan waited for a few seconds, listening to the sound of a chair being dragged around the room. It was time for step three. The most crucial step. 

Turning on the music, as loud as she could, she turned down the overhead lights, just a small lamp creating a soft glow on her skin and she lay back on her light blue furniture. The velvet brushing her skin she closed her eyes. It had to work. Bette had to learn her lines and no one else was around at this hour, so nobody would be disturbed by the music. It was a good song and Joan flexed and pointed her feet to the rhythm. 

No longer than 2 minutes after staring the music, Bette banged her hands to the wall. 

“Turn. It. Down.”, she shouted, annoyed at the inconvenience. 

But Joan just lay back, caressing her breasts with her cold fingers, her nipples hardening under her touch. The plan would work, she already had the attention of her chosen subject.

After a while, Bette was frustrated, the music way too loud to study her lines and the Skript was so dry, no matter what she did, she stumbled over the lines. 

“She’s got to be kidding me.”, The sound of extreme anger reached Joans delighted ears. The door opened, and closed and the brunette got ready, perking up, waiting for a knock, lighting a anxious cigarette. 

And as if I’m command the door burst open. Bette stormed in, with her strong steps and angry face. 

“How often do I have to tell-“, the door closed behind her, her eyes finally fixed on Joan, wide and shocked. 

The brunette lay there, in the middle of the room on her chaiselongue, bare breasted, looking at her with hooded eyes, one hand on the back of the plush sofa, one on her chest. 

Both woman stared at each other, the music still way too loud, but it seemed to quiet down for Joan, who held her breath. 

Bette stared at her, unable to look away, her breath irregular. 

“Do you want anything?”, Joan wanted it to sound confident and casual, but her voice was to shaky, to desperate. 

Bette finally tore her eyes of Joans breasts, turning around. 

“Oh you don’t mind, right? I’m just trying on a new dress.”, she vaguely gestured across the room. “As you are not a sapphic it won’t affect you, right?”, she continued.

“The music is way too loud.”, Bette pressed out, staring at the wall. 

“Oh. I had not noticed.”, Joan smiled and went over to the turntable, the music stopped, then she stepped over to the other woman, positioning herself in front of her, watching the blonde unable to keep her eyes from her body. 

“Cigarette?”, she took the one from her own mouth and held it out. Bette, perplexed as she was, took the cigarette and while sweeping her eyes over the milky skin blew the smoke into the room.

“Do you want something else?”, Joan asked, with a sly smile. 

“No.”, Bette answered way to quickly. 

“No?”, Joan crossed her arms in front of her chest, pushing her breasts upwards. 

“No.”, the blonde was practically panting now, a slight sweat had formed on her neckline. 

Joan stepped closer, just a bit. 

“I know I want something, but you won’t give it to me right here.”, she muttered, her dark hair falling into her face. 

Bettes hands jerked, as if she had to deliberately hold back not to touch the woman in front of her. 

When Joan stepped even closer, she did not move, as if in a trace. Joan leaned forward, her bare breast stroking the cramping hand and she pressed a small kiss on the left cheek, backing down, watching the woman unraveling before her eyes. 

Bette had to close her eyes, breathing in deep, her neck pulsing hard. 

“I hope you learn your lines, if you want to we can go over them this afternoon?”, she I moved onto her sofa, placing herself as if she was not walking around half naked at 9 in the morning. 

Bette snapped out of it. 

“I’ll be watching a play this afternoon.”, she shook her head in disbelief, her usually so strong and loud voice now thin and shaking. 

“Oh how marvellous, who’s joining you?”, Joan clapped her hands once. 

“No one.”, Bette winced, her eyes still glued to the woman before her, the arousal written all over her body, red spots appearing all over her body. 

“Well that’s no fun, I’ll join you.”, Joan perked up, she got up again and placed her hand on the blondes waist, guiding her towards her door. 

“I’ll pick you up at 7.”, she opened the door, covering herself with the wood, as Bette left her room, in a confused state of mind. As soon as the door closed, Joan put her clothes back on, exhaling deeply. It had worked.


	9. Chapter 9

Joan chose a blue dress, silk, with a wide neckline. It fit her like a glove and she excitedly accessoriesed, putting on her favourite pearls and hat. 

When she pulled up the long driveway, Bette left the house. She wore a light, cotton dress, a wide coat and simple gloves. It was certainly not fit for the theatre, but Bette could have been wearing a potato sack and looked like a million bucks.

Those eyes of hers and the red lips made everything worthwhile. 

Joan stepped out of the car, holding open the door for her company, smiling wide. 

“You look nice.”, she greeted her with a warm tone in her voice. 

“You hate the dress and I know it.”, Bette placed her black purse on her lap, looking for a cigarette. When she found one, she lit it with skilled fingers. 

“Oh what those fingers could do.”, Joan thought and tried to focus on the road ahead, drumming her gloved fingers on the steering wheel. 

Bette did not talk the long way there, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. 

When gave the keys to her car to a young gentleman alongside a stunning smile, that would have paled any toothpaste model, Bette took a deep breath. 

“Let’s Go.”, Joan took her arm, guided it under her own and pulled her into the theatre. 

They both went around the foyer in a small circle, greeting the few familiar faces, exchanging pleasantries with anyone and ignoring the whispers one had to expect as a star in a big theatre. Some pictures where taken, the arm that Joan had placed on her own never left, Joan noticed that Bette gripped her tightly, almost as if Joan was a man, that carried her around the room. 

They entered the seated area, Joan let Bette lead them towards the back. 

“I hate it, when they stare, makes me want to throw up.”, Bette explained, as they sat down in the last row of the first balcony. The view still was nice, the whole stage beautifully lit. 

“I agree.”, Joan lent her the lighter and Bette relaxed into her seat, cigarette in one hand, the other placed on the armrest between them. 

“Ma’am?”, a young man approached them, and they both perked up. 

“You can’t smoke in here.”, he started, then noticing who he was taking to. 

“Oh I’m sorry.”, he backed off. “That’s quite alright, Mrs Davis.”, he stuttered and left. 

Both women watched him hurry away, trying not to laugh out loud. 

“Can’t smoke my ass.”, Bette giggled. “I can smoke anywhere I want.”, she coughed, showing how much she took advantage of that. 

“And you look so good doing that.”, Joan leaned back, watching the woman next to her, nudging her leg with her foot, and growing more confident, as the blondes big eyes fell onto her cleavage. 

“Damn right I do.”, the blonde nodded, growing hot all over. Bette was breathing in the scent of Joan, just sitting right next to her. 

The theatre filled and Joan studied the face of her companion. Bette was flustered, looking forward, not saying anything until the lights dimmed down and the show was starting. No one had dared to sit directly next to them, a sort of box formed around the two women. 

The first few minutes both women just sat there, straight as two arrows, watching the people on stage introduce themselves both just breathing the others scents. 

Joan waited for a few more heartbeats, then leaning towards the other woman. 

“Who do you like best.”, she whispered into the small ear, her nose brushing along the rim. 

Bette shivered, Joan could see goosebumps form on the other woman’s arms.  
Happy about the reaction she leaned back, not expecting an answer. 

She was shocked as she felt the other woman shift, felt a small hand on her thigh, as Bette leaned into her. 

Bette had gathered her strength, if Joan wanted to play this game, she would win, damn it. She would not just sit there and let the other woman ruin her underwear and get out of this with nothing. Maybe it was going to be fun. 

Joan nearly gasped out loud as she felt the red lips on her ear whispering in a raspy voice: “they all suck.”, she felt the hairs on her arms stand up, as Bette began licking her ear. 

A noise escaped her throat, no one but them could hear it, Joan was not even sure, it had been her, but Bette heard it, continuing to run her flat tongue across the ear, licking over the pearl , that hung from the lobe. 

And just as quick as she had leaned over, she left Joan, the ear growing cold and wet. 

Joan shifted, she felt herself growing wet, but she tried not to show a reaction. 

They watched the play, not acknowledging the other ones quickened breath, feeling their hearts beat faster. 

Bette did not move her hand, so Joan was sure, the other woman could feel her pulse under her palm. 

She tried to concentrate on the play. Two people engaged into some sort of battle, half naked. Joan tried to admire the man on stage, as he wrestled down the woman and started to kiss her with force. 

Bettes hand moved on her leg, upwards. The grip had not lessened and Joan look a shaky breath. The hand moved painfully slow, pushing the blue dress upwards, the nails getting caught on her stockings. 

When Bette reached the end of the silk, Joan gripped the armrest tightly, trying not to make a sound. The hand moved across the top of her garment, touching her upper thigh now. Hand met flesh and Joan nearly jolted her hips forward, trying to get some sort of touch where she needed it, the most. 

One quick look showed her, what Bette what thinking. The other woman stared straight ahead, seemingly watching the play, red spots forming on her cheeks and neck, her chest rising fast with her quickened breaths. 

Joan pressed her legs together, trapping Bettes hands between them, the fingers nearly touching her Center, the dress almost bunched up at her hips. 

The bell rang, the lights slowly turning back on, as both woman looked at each other in horror, Joan pushing down her dress, Bette pulling away her hand as if she hand been burned. 

They made it into the entrance hall, passing through on their way to the ladies room. 

Both did not talk, as they reapplied their lipstick, not looking at each other, but never leaving each other’s sides. 

“Whatever game you tried to play, it seems like I’m winning.”, Bette muttered at one moment, sending a sly smile towards Joan, as their eyes met in the mirror. 

When they sat back down Joan decided to flip the switch. She had the figurative pants on here. 

The light dimmed down again and as soon as Bette put her hands on her knee again, Joan pushed it away. 

“I’ll show you.”, she thought to herself. 

Pretending to stretch after the break, she let one arm drop around the blonde, pulling her close, the other hand on the warm arm.

Bette stared ahead, her heart beating fast. Joan turned her head. 

“If you were at my home this would be easier.”, she whispered, her voice deep and sultry. 

Bette shivered. 

“You know what I would do.”, Joan stared to rub her thumb along Bettes arm, the woman responding to her touch instantly. 

“I’d take of this dress.”, Joan continued. Her nose touching the ear ever so slightly. 

Bette blushed, already feeling her thighs clenching. 

“I’d kiss you. Everywhere, you would like that right?”, she Joan dragged one finger over the exposed skin on Bettes arm, then licked the skin behind Bettes ear. The gasp that escaped the blonde was enough confirmation. 

“I would kiss you here.”, Joan brushed over the arm one last time, now her lips glued to the ear. 

“And here.”, Bette shifted, pushing down the armrest between them and moved even closer, practically sitting on top of Joan. 

The hand moved across her arm, searched and found an erected nipple, slender fingers circling around, the little hitches of breath filling the air for both of them. 

Joan pushed the blonde hair aside sucking on the exposed flesh, a small moan escaping the small woman. 

Joan knew she had to stop now, before they would be caught, but she was beyond aroused, her finger closing around the nipple, pinching, the same time her other hand covered the beautiful mouth, muffling a moan. 

Then she dropped her hands, just holding the panting woman in her arms. They both stared at the stage, not thinking about the play. 

When they left that night Joan was sure, Bette would invite her in, but nothing happened. 

“Thank your for the lift, Lucille.”, Bette smiled at her, then left the car, her hips swinging while she walked back to her home. 

And Joan suddenly knew what a man had to feel like. Aroused and left behind at the doorstep.


	10. Chapter 10

“She didn’t even turn back.”, Joan had flung herself on her sofa, unable to sleep. 

“But did she enjoy your company, Mrs Joan.”, Mamacita followed her around, even thought it was past her bedtime and she was rather tried. 

“Well she did not not like it.”, Joan went over what happened in her mind, not finding a single moment Bette had not enjoyed her. 

“Maybe she’s a bit shy.”

Joan rolled her eyes. Mamacita would not understand. Bette was not shy. She was loud and big and direct. But Mamacita could not understand her yearning for the woman, her deep want to drive over again, because Mamacita did not know the nature of the relationship. 

Joan had kept quiet for a long time and now was not the time to share. It had been close a lot of times, where she could have gotten caught, but Joan knew the older woman did not suspect a thing, to her Bette was just a woman that would not be friends with her. 

The woman sighed deeply. 

“This is irritating me.”, she took the drink and went outside. The cold air hit her body, only covered in a light, silky slip. 

The moon broke through the clouds of the night sky, shining on her estate, lighting up all the places she loved, the beautiful stones and windows. 

Her husband joined her, just holding her in his hands and she let him. 

“What’s the matter honey.”, he asked quietly. 

“Nothing.”, Joan turned away, the wind blowing around her hair. She looked at the man, his featured glowing under the moonlight. 

“Since you joined the studio, you’ve been acting weird Joan.”, he held her close to his chest and she did not enjoy it, the way she used to. He was to hard, to big, not soft and beautiful. 

“It’s nothing.”, she mumbled, letting him take her cold body inside. 

When he hovered above her, she nearly cried, the sorrow of not getting what she wanted lingering on her body. 

“Let me do something nice for you.”, he muttered and she felt dirty and wrong. 

And then his lips closed around her and she tried to push the thoughts away, just enjoying the man, she married out of sheer fear of being alone. 

He had freshly shaved his beard, and if she tried really hard and closed her eyes now she could imagine it was Bette, that did these things to her. 

Joan pictured the woman, lying between her legs, her big blue eyes, looking up, as she did what Joan needed her to do, so desperately, it helped, even though Phillip did not know what he was doing. 

When she had finished, she patted him on his head, a fake smile appearing on her face and she left to sleep in her own bed. 

The next day, Joan decided it had been enough, she had tortures herself for two weeks now and she was going to go out and get what she wanted. It was a beautiful Sunday, so she put on a light Sunday dress, doing her hair with quick fingers. 

Phillip gave her quick kiss, drinking his coffee on the kitchen table. 

“You look lovely.”, he tried to pull her into a hug, but she just gave him a quick smile, leaving the house with fast steps. 

When she pulled up the driveway of Bettes house, she looked into the mirror one last time, reassuring herself, that it was going to be okay and that she looked amazing. 

Bette opened the door in a simple pant and blouses ensemble. 

“Oh what the hell do you want now. Didn’t you take enough yesterday?”, she exhaled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

“Good Morning to you too, Bette.”, Joan smiled, stepping up the last step of the stairs.

“I was in the area and thought why not bring over some pastries.”, she held up a tin container , Bette stepping aside, letting Joan in. 

The door closed and Joan made her way into the kitchen. 

“Sure, feel just like at home.”, Bette sneered ironically. 

“Let’s make some tea.”, Joan found the kettle, filling it with water.  
“Is your Arthur home?”, she wondered out loud.

“As if I care, he can sodd off, that cheating bastard, I wish he would drop dead.”, Bette rolled her eyes. 

“I can do that myself.”, she exhaled and took the kettle out of her hands, annoyed with the behaviour of the other woman. Bette was not a bad host. 

“Oh with those skilled fingers, I’m sure you can do it for yourself.”, Joan stepped back, sitting on one of the bar chairs, leaning over the counter, her chest nearly fully exposed. 

“Knock it off Lucille.”, Bette placed a mug in front of her, pulling out two simple plates, opening the container and placing the pastry on top. 

“Lovely.”, Joan took at sip from her tea, watching Bette sit down opposite of her. 

“I tried my very best.”, she excuses the deformed sweet, looking at it with fake pity. 

“They taste delicious, but I have to admit they are not the prettiest.”, she snorted. 

“In fact.”, she held it up. “It looks rather like something else.”, Joan watched Bette blush. 

It was true, the strawberries were placed strategically, when you squinted your eyes, it looked like the female reproductive organs. 

“Strawberries.”, Joan continued to speak with a low voice, “have a special place in my heart. They are the most delicious, dont you think?”

Bette picked up her own pastry, biting into it and suddenly forgot she was not alone. Her throat escaped a long moan. 

Joans eyes were all over her, as Bettes eyes snapped back open, surprised at her own lack of control. 

Bette watched nearly in horror Joan get up, her eyes partially closed, as she stepped around the counter, trapping the blonde. 

“So I can make you moan in more than one way?”, the brunette placed one hand on the cold granite, Bette between her arms. 

Grinning inwardly, Joan watched as Bette licked her lips, her eyes flickering from Joans chest to her eyes. 

“If you let me, I could make you scream.”, Joan stepped closer, watching the words hit on Bettes face, who was already blushing and breathing deeply. 

“I.”, she started, clearing not finding the right words. 

“I’m not going to kiss you, if you don’t want it.”, Joan was now as close as she could be, Bettes legs in the way of her coming even closer, she watched Bette press her legs together. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

Bette said nothing, just breathing heavily. 

The all of the sudden, she jerked forward, capturing the brunettes lips with her own. 

They both nearly stumbled, frantically kissing, Joan pressing her hips into Bettes knees, who had her hand in the other woman’s hair. 

When Joan moaned into Bettes mouth, the blonde opened her legs, scooting closer to the edge of the bar chair, embracing Joan with her legs, Joan moving her hands form from the countertop onto Bettes hips, grabbing her hard, making her moan out loud. 

They both were so aroused, that they did not hear someone entering the kitchen, only breaking apart, as a body hit the kitchenfloor. 

Bettes husband had come down the stairs, confused by the noise that they were making, entered the room and fainted, by the look of the two stars kissing at his kitchen island, practically rubbing each other over their clothes. 

He had hit his head on the stove and sank down towards the floor. 

“Arthur.”, Bette exclaimed, looking at Joan in terror. 

Joan kneeled next to the man, wiping her lipstick of her lips and chin. 

“He’s alive”, she felt his pulse, slapping his face. 

“Joan?” he opened his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He clear did not remember a thing, trying to sit up, but holding his head. 

“I was just checking in on your wife.”, she helped him up and the women lay him on the couch. 

“When I said, drop dead I did not mean that, but clearly god listened.”, Bette seemed unnerved, by the whole thing. 

“That’s still your husband.”, Joan was surprised. 

“Yes and He cheated on me, and I cheated on him. My morals seem to have been flung out of the window today.”, Bette placed a cloth in the sink. 

“I’m not sleeping with you Lucille.”, she shouted from the living room. 

“We’ll See about that.”, Joan muttered, remembering the wetness, that she had spotted between Bettes legs. 

She left, sending flowers for Arthur and roses for Bette, from her office, surprised, because they were not returned. 

She had written: “hope those pants are washable”, on it.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning Joan woke up to Mamacita bringing her a full breakfast. 

She propped herself on her arms, the silk gown sliding over her body and enjoyed the meal. 

“Oh Mrs Crawford.”, Mamacita was particularly active today, shuffling around the room, “a package has arrived earlier this morning.”, she left and came back with a small brown bundle. 

“It must have been left on your doorstep, there is no address on it.”, she twists and turns the brown Paper around. 

“Give it to me.”, Joan impatiently waves her hand and takes the small item in her hands. 

“What if it’s something dangerous?”, The German woman seemed concerned, eying the situation. 

“It’s not. Will you take this?”, Joan let Mamacita carry away her breakfast her hunger had been blown away by the excitement of a package. 

With quick fingers she opened the brown paper. A beautiful box was being lifted out of it, the pinks and whites shimmering in the early sunlight of the day. 

Taking a deep breath, she lifted the cover, her eyes hitting the used pair of underwear that had been placed inside. 

Laughter erupted from her breast and she fell back into the bed. 

“That Devil of a Woman.”, she thought. There was a small card attached to the cotton. 

Joan picked it up with her long fingers. 

“I won’t wash them, because it’s your fault they are ruined.”, Bette had scribbled over the cardboard. 

Joan snickered, holding up the old fashioned garment, the faint smell of Bette clouding her mind. 

“I can’t believe this.”, she chuckled to herself, stomping over to Mamacita. 

“Can you wash these fast?”, Joan suddenly had an idea, and she already was filled to the brim with excitement. 

When she put on her own dress she made sure it had a wide range of movement, to hell she was going to need it. 

Phillip smiled his dumb smile. 

“I heard you got a package?”, his trusty eyes focused on the newspaper before him. 

“Yes.”, Joan carries the pair of underwear and hung them outside, the sun would take care of drying them quickly. 

“Who’s are those.”, Phillip looked confused at the clothing that his mom would have been wearing if she hadn’t died. 

“Bette Davis.”, Joan quipped, quickly turning so he could not see her blush. 

“How do you come to have those.”, he wrinkled his face in confusion. 

“She send them to me.”, Joan began cleaning the dishes, the conversation not making her entirely comfortable. 

Phillip did not know she had the taste for women in general and if he knew she slept with them frequently, he would divorce her in an instant. Everyone knew, but no one had told him, as he was obviously in love with her. 

“It’s an insider joke.”, Joan brushed to hard over one plate and some water hit her dress. Great. Now she had to change too. 

“That’s tasteless of her.”, the man scrunched his nose. “I don’t care for her and her Yankee ways.”, he continued. “She makes me sick,doesn’t she make you sick too?”

Joan shook her head. “Not really Phillip.”, her hands were wet now and Phillip started to annoy her. 

“She’s a marvellous woman.”, drying her hands on a towel she turned to leave the room. 

“But oh so ugly. You can be glad you don’t look like her. I don’t understand why they would cast her in movies with those disgusting big eyes.”

“I think you should stop talking. She has definitely more appeal than any other at Warner’s.” 

Joan knew Phillip was insecure about being one of the least handsome men at the studio and she was angry, so she topped her statement.

“Men and woman that is.”, she wanted to leave now, the situation making her angry. 

“Except for me, right?”, he looked at her with those ugly, desperate eyes. 

“You wish.”, she sneered, leaving the kitchen and getting the pair of knickers, that had dried in the meantime. 

She pulled down her own underwear, so that Phillip could see her and put Bettes on. 

“Have a good day.”, she waved and left the estate and a baffled husband, wondering why his wife would find a woman more attractive than him, coming to the conclusion that she simply had to be jealous of the other woman’s features. 

She practically ran down the hall, hoping Bette would have already arrived. Knocking on the dark door, she waited for a second, then opening it. 

Bette shot up from her seat.

“Good Morning, Betts.”, Joan held out her hand. 

“I brought you coffee.”, she placed a mug on the vanity. She looked around the room. It was similarly cut, yet the interior was simple, not nearly as glamorous as hers. 

“Thank you.”, Bette picked up the spiced coffee, first wincing in surprise, then eagerly drinking it. 

“How’s Arthur.”, Joan sat back into a simple armchair, making sure, her dress hiked up just as much as the lace of the long underwear was showing. 

“Good, I guess. I haven’t talked to him, but he has pretty much forgotten all about everything.”, Bettes eyes wandered down down down, and rested on the lace. 

“That’s good.”, the brunette lit a cigarette taking a long drag, toying with the edge of her skirt. 

“Thank you for your gift.”, she added. 

Bette blushed deeply, turning around. 

“They are very comfortable.”, Joan watched the other woman unravel before her eyes, turning back around and staring in disbelief, as Joan lifter her hips off the chair and pushed down the underwear, in a manner that her skirt covered her privates the whole time. 

“But I guess you would like them back.”, she swung them around her index finger, letting the, fly in the direction of the blonde. 

“I’ll have to wash them again.”, Bette muttered. 

“Yes but it’s your fault entirely, that these are dirty now.”, Joan brushed her skirt back down and smiled innocently. 

“And how is that so?”

“Well you see.”, she leaned back, propping one leg up, so that her skirts bunched up at her foot. 

“I have been thinking about you for days now and no matter how much I take care of myself, I can’t seem to stop it.”, Joan now touched her breast, her breath hitching. 

Bettes eyes were all over her, deep and blue and oh so big. 

Joan pushed the halter of the dress of her shoulder, gaining access to her own breast, as her legs swung open, only the skirt covering her. Bette was nearly panting now, her eyes glued to Joans breast. 

And then Joan took her right hand, pushing it down her body, lifting up her skirt, never letting her eyes leave Bettes face. 

She placed her fingers on her hot middle, feeling the slick wet, watching as Bettes cheeks flamed, her eyes not able to move away from watching, not wanting to anyway. 

Joan threw her head back, moaning. 

“Come here.”, she commanded, Bette getting up and stumbling forward, sitting in front of the chair. 

“I need you.”, Joan shivered now, the desperation almost too much. Bette grabbed the top of her thighs, swallowing, then licking her lips. Her eyes wandered over the brunettes vagina, it looked so beautiful, so swollen, so- she leaned in slowly, closing her eyes. Joan watched the head come closer, closer and closer to where she needed it, yet-

It knocked.

Both woman jumping, Bette nearly falling back, patting down her hair, Joan closing her legs, covering herself with her dress again, grabbing the nearest book she could find. 

“Come in.”, Bette had taken a seat in front of her vanity, picking up her lipstick. 

Phillip came in, looking rather surprised to find his wife. 

“Joan!”, he exhaled. 

“I’ve been looking for you.”, he went over to her, standing in the middle of the room. 

“I’ve been here with Bette, we’ve been chatting.”, Joan tried to cover up the red blotches on her neck. 

“That’s lovely.”, he smiled, his eyes wandering around the room, finally landing on the pair of knickers, that had been thrown onto the corner of the mirror. 

“Those are mine.”, Bette quipped. 

“I like to go without during rehearsals.”, she got up. 

“Oh.”, he blushed, Joan holding back a giggle. 

“Let’s Go for a Walk Joanie.”, he was clearly confused. 

“What a great idea, Bette?”, Joan winked, “would you like to join us?”


	12. Chapter 12

They took of into a park, the grass green, the sun shining. Joan felt her arousal run down her thigh, as they passed a few ducks and a bluebird. 

Bette walked left of her, Phillip had clasped her hand, as if his life depended on it. 

“You are hurting me.”, she tried to remove his hand, but he just pressed the slender finger harder. 

Somehow they managed to find a topic to talk about, Bette telling a story about cutting her own wood, as Joan zoned out.

She could not concentrate on anything but the burning between her legs, this was actually worse than she could imagine. 

She reached into her bag, finally Phillip let her hand go, and she stuck her face basically into the depths of the things she liked to carry around with her. 

Bette opened her own bag and handed her a cigarette, that Joan took with gratefully widened eyes. 

“Need a light?”, Phillip tried to chime in, standing there a bit lost on the grey gravelled path, as Joan leaned forward and Bette lit her cigarette in a smooth manner. They both blew the smoke into the air, smiling at each other, as if they carried the same secret in middle school. 

“I got it.”, Bettes husky laugh carried across the park and Joan chimed in. The whole situation was hilarious. Joan standing there, no underwear on, nearly dying from not getting off, smoking a cigarette with the woman she wanted between her legs and her husband whomst she did not want between her legs. 

“I see that.”, Phillip quipped, seemingly annoyed. 

“Joan darling, look it’s the smiths.”, he pointed at a group of people.

They made their way over to the family, children playing on a blanket, women sitting around in their playdresses. 

“Phillip!”, someone shouted and soon drinks were passed around. Phillip urged the two woman that stood at the edge of the party to sit down and they sunk into the soft cotton. 

Bette swung her legs around, holding her body up with her right arm, sipping on the drink, as a Joan talked to a few women for a minute. The sun was so bright and they both were glowing. 

Bette nodded towards a few women asking her how she was doing, exchanging basic smalltalk. Joan leaned back, the drink in her hand spilling. 

“Oh damn it.”, she cursed, trying to find a tissue. 

Bette leaned forward, dabbing the spilled drink with her own cloth, carefully rubbing the Fabric. 

Joan fell back, her head landing in Bettes lap, as the other woman rubbed her blatantly through the dress. To anyone else it would seem like an innocent touch, but they both knew it was not. 

“Thank you dear.”, Joan lifted her arms over her head, relaxing into the other woman’s body. 

“You can’t even see it anymore.”, Bette tucking her handkerchief into her bag. 

“Good.”, Joan smiled up at the blonde, her eyes fixing on her face, watching Bettes eyes move over her dress, getting caught on her breasts. 

The other people, didn’t listen to them, they were much to concerned with the oh so nice weather and the children that run around, Bette stroking the brunettes hair out of her face. 

“You have freckles.”, she observed, slightly touching the soft cheekbones. Joan closed her eyes, the touch making her wanting to cry, or laugh. Or both. The sun began setting, as they enjoyed the weather and noise of people talking about nothing. 

Someone got out a turntable and put on some swing music. 

Phillip came over and looked down onto his wife. 

“This looks comfortable.”, he remarked, confused. 

“Let’s Dance.”, he held out a strong hand. Joan peeled herself of the other woman, not wanting to leave the warm embrace. 

They danced, civil, but without much passion. Joan looked over at Bette, who just found a piece of cake and bit into it, her eyes closed with delight. 

When she opened them again, their gaze met. 

“Save me.”, Joan mouthed, as Phillip stepped on her feet for the 8th time, not even recognising, he hurt her in the process. 

Bette got up, tapping Phillip on his shoulders. 

“Ladies choice.”, she stepped in, taking Joans soft hands in hers. 

Phillip sat back, Joan quickly smiling and shrugging apologetically. 

They danced, first with the mandatory feet between them, but after a few moments they got closer. Suddenly Bette stepped back, Joan followed and they both tumbled to the ground, laughing hysterically. 

“This is.”, Joan could not breathe, it was just to damn funny. 

Bette got up on her elbows, looking the brunette in the eyes. 

“Let’s Go Walk a round through the park.”, Joan helped Bette get up, flinging her arm around the waistline of the blonde. 

“We’ll be right back.”, she shouted towards Phillip, who nodded and smiled, saying to the man he was talking to:” it’s so nice that she has such good friends.”

“This is nuts.”, Bette giggled, the drinks clouding her judgment, then growing serious. 

“Lucille?”, she stopped her. They still could see the picnic, but they were out of earshot. 

Joan looked eyes with the woman. 

“Yes.”, she whispered. 

“I’ve- this. I’m not- I’ve never-.”, Bette was at a loss of words, finally sighing and pushing her shoulders back. 

“I’m not like that, Lucille. I’m not.”

“Not what.”

“A lesbian for gods sake.”, Bette exclaimed. 

“Bette for Christ sake, keep your voice down.”, Joan took the hand that was slightly shaking. 

“What is the matter with you.”, the trembling fingers closed around hers. 

“I’ve never felt like this.”, Bette whispered, her voice a faint raspy noise. 

“With a woman?”, Joan squeezed the hand, they both started to walk again. 

“With anyone.”, Bette confessed, closing her eyes, blushing deeply. 

“Are you scared of bugs?”, a smile appeared on Joans fair face. 

Bette wrinkled her nose. “Do I look like I’m afraid of bugs.”, she was clearly offended. Her, afraid of bugs. 

“Good.”, Joan pulled her across the park into a small wooded area. She looked left and right, making sure no one was there to witness what she was about to do. 

“What?”, Bette followed her into the trees, confused. Stepping on sticks. The darkness already settled between the big trees and small bushes. 

“You are going to have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”, Joan pushed her against the biggest tree. It was surrounded by other trees, so no one could see what she did next. 

Joan sank to her knees, hiking up Bettes blue skirt, looking up at the woman, leaning on the tree. Bette grabbed the bark, panting at the sight. 

“May I?”, Joan asked, her voice deep and silky, hooking her fingers into Bettes underwear. 

Bette nodded. 

“I’m going to need you to say yes, Bette.”, Joan smiled sweetly. 

“Yes.”, Bette breathed out, slightly lightheaded. 

Joan pushed down, not able to let the blonde step out of the garment.  
Then she leaned closer, the hard stones cutting into her knees, but she did not care. 

She could smell the woman, licking her lips, she pushed the buckelig knees as far apart as it was possible in this position. 

Then she made contact. Bette muffled a scream with her own hand, biting down on her flesh. 

Joan licked, gathered everything she could, every trick she had learned to make a woman come as fast as humanly possible, and by the sound of it it worked. The legs next to her face nearly gave in and Bette nearly dug her nails into the tree, holding onto it as if her life depended on it. 

“Look at me Bette.”, Joan stopped as soon as she felt the blonde near her orgasm. 

Bette looked down, her face flushed, the eyes filled with tears of ecstasy. 

Joan began licking again, directly focusing on the task, keeping her eyes on the blondes. And just from the sight alone Bette gasped and rocked against the tree, her back arched, as she came. 

“Good Girl.”, Joan stood up, wiping her chin, that was dripping, with her hand, smiling.  
Bette could not talk for a minute or so, just trying to catch her breath, she stood leaning against the tree. 

“I- yes.”, Bette found her voice again, pushing up her underwear, wiping her face. 

They tried to fix their hair, lipstick and clothes, but the cuts on Joans knees and the dirt on their dresses was something they could not hide. 

“I fell.”, she later told Phillip, when he asked what had happened. 

When Joan opened the door next morning a single rose had been left on her doorstep, a card attached, saying: I’m not going to eat yours, just so you know. B. 

Joan Crawford laughed out loud, knowing she had won the first round. The second was going to be much easier, now that she knew Bette had liked it and wanted more.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention! TW! This kinda mentions sexual abuse pls don’t read if you get triggered easily. It’s not prominent but I wanted 2 let you know!

“Bette.”, Joan hammered against the door. 

No one answered. It had been two week, and no sign of the woman. She had not come to Warner’s, the dressing room empty every single day. Joan had frustratingly send flowers to the woman, not receiving any notes back, not even a snappy card or a sign to stop being annoying. 

This was definitely worse then being rejected, so after two weeks she got get best fur and drove towards the Davis estate. 

“Open the god damn door, you fool.”, Joan shouted, seeing the light in the living room turn on. 

The door flung open, mere moments later. 

“Stop shouting you maniac.”, Bette hushed, her face white and deep circles under her eyes. 

Jesus, are you okay?”, Joan stepped forward, one arm on the exhausted woman’s shoulders. 

“Do I look like I’m okay?”, the blonde quipped, guiding them towards the living room, shutting the door quietly.

“What’s wrong?”, Joan was worried. “It’s not because I did something wrong, I suppose?”, she was truly concerned now for the woman, that crumbled up in a chair. 

“Not everything revolves around you Lucille.”, Bette murmured, hugging her legs to her chest. 

“Then what is it?”, the red lips of the brunette woman distorted. 

“It’s.”, Bette looked around the room. “Arthur.”, she shook her head. 

“Oh how is he? He did hit his head pretty hard.” Joan stood up, taking a seat on the arm rest of the chair Bette was sitting on, placing a warm hand on the blondes shoulder in empathy. 

“He’s fine. He just forgets things. He didn’t even remember his own damn name yesterday.” Bettes eyes were filled with worry. 

“I think it’s something serious.”, the usually so tough woman looked small and vulnerable, biting on her nails.  
“ I mean.”, she exhaled. “He can take care of himself, he eats, sleeps, talks, all normally, but then sometimes he drifts off.” She paused. 

“It’s my fault.”, bitterness found it’s way around her lips. 

“If I had not kissed you, off all people, he would have not fallen.” 

Joan slid down the armrest, her slim body now pressing against Bettes, her strong arms found their way around the woman’s torso, taking her into a long embrace. And Bette let her, burying her face into the brunettes long neck. 

“It’s not your fault.”, Joan hushed again and again, stroking the other woman’s hair. 

“I don’t even love him anymore.”, tears fell down, landing on Joans collarbones, rolling down the skin. 

“I understand.” 

“It’s just, I used to love him. And I don’t want to go to jail, if something happens to him.” Bette cried. 

“What in gods name makes you say things like that. You won’t go to jail.”, Joan pushed her back, facing her, wiping away the tears. 

“You have done nothing wrong, and you did not even know he had fallen, do you hear me?”, she placed a long kiss on the woman’s forehead, a sad smile creeping on the overdrawn lips. 

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

“He’s asleep now, I can’t sleep next to him.”, Bette muttered. 

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch for the last few nights. He calls me Greta. That’s the name of his chick.”, she huffed. 

“This won’t do.”, Joan got up, slowly pulling the other woman with her, grabbing her fur and bag. 

“Go upstairs, pack a bag.”, she held onto the staircase with a strong hand. 

“You can stay in my guest room, we’ll make ourselves a nice day, you look like you’d need it.”

Bette rushed upstairs, to tired to argue with the brunette. She found her daughter and informed her that she’d be staying at a friends place and that she had to look after the man. 

“He’ll be fine for one day.”, Joan tried to get rid of the guilty expression, that found its way onto Bettes face. 

They stepped outside, Bette closing the door, not locking it. 

“Yeah, BD will watch him.” On the way over to Joans house they turned on the radio, a soft song playing. Bette leaned against the window, her gaze set outside, and soon her big eyes closed. She relaxed for the first time in days, sleeping softly. 

Joan noticed and decided not to wake the woman, she just kept on driving, finding a highway that lead to the beach. She stopped the car at a gas station, just for a second, and brought a few lemonades and something to eat. 

Bette did not wake up and when she came back the woman had snuggled up to the window. 

Joan pulled out a blanket from her trunk and pushed it over the sleeping woman, starting the car carefully, not to wake her. 

When she arrived at the beach of her liking an hour later, Bette stirred. The sun had settled over the car, burning down in a warm stream. 

“Where are we?”, Bette rubbed her eyes, like a child after a nap. 

“It’s my favourite place to be.” Joan took the next turn and the car came to a stop. She had led them to a beach pretty much no one knew about, so no cars were around. 

Bette looked around, her eyes wide. 

Suddenly Joan grew self conscious. “This was a bad idea.”, she shook her head, grabbing the key, wanting to start the car. “You hate it.” 

Bette reached out. 

“Thank you so much, Lucille.”, she reached for the door. 

“It’s perfect.”

A soft smile played around Joans whole body, when they took the blanket and set it on the sand. The water rushed around them, the waves hitting in a steady manner. They both lay flat on their backs, the sun so warm and light. 

Bette fell asleep again and Joan drifted off herself, not caring if she got a sunburn or not. It would not matter. Nothing mattered right now. 

“It’s so warm.”, Bette rolled onto her back, after what seemed to have been an eternity of sheer bliss. 

“Your Right.” Joan stood up, pulling up her blouse, then turning around to remove her skirt and slip. “You don’t mind right?”

When she had turned back around Bette had crossed her arms before her chest. 

Staring at the slender body. 

“No I don’t mind.”, she turned. 

“It looks like you do.”, Joan covered her breasts with her arms. 

“I don’t.” Bette sighed deeply. “I just wished I could do that.”

Joan was confused, sitting down again, her long legs propped up. 

“You have it easy. With those long legs, and that perfect bone structure and your beautiful arms. I’m just a farmer. A truck driver.” Bette pressed her hands into her face, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Bette what are you saying?”, Joan tried to reach out for her. 

“Nothing Lucille.”, Bette sighed again. 

“Don’t nothing me.”, Joan got ahold of Bettes chin, forcing her to look at her. “You won’t talk about yourself like this. I forbid it. You are beautiful you nitwit.”

Bette closed her eyes. 

“Now stand there.”, Joan wiggled her finger for her to stand up. 

“Get those rags off that beautiful body.”, she leaned back on her arms, her eyes hooded all of a sudden. 

“I want to see you.”, she groaned. 

Bette got up, muttering something to herself, stood where she was directed to and shook her head. 

The brunette had splayed herself onto the blanket, the milky skin nearly reflecting the light, only her middle covered up by her underwear. 

Bette turned around and started to unbutton her blouse. The wind was blowing now, and she had trouble to calm her shaking fingers. 

“Calm the heck down Bette.”, she scolded herself. “You’ve done this a million times for all kinds of men.” 

Slowly she opened the blouse, letting it fall down to the ground, her back now bare. The skirt followed quickly and she bent down to grab it. Joan hummed in appreciation. 

“Your like a Teenager Lucille.”, Bette turned around and stood there, hands on her hips, that she found way to square for anyone to adore them. 

“Like what you see?”, she mirrored Joan, who had said the same thing to her a few weeks ago in her garden. Bette blushed as she remembered how angry she had been. 

“I do.”, Joan sat up, propping her body up on her forearms. Bette stepped forward, suddenly anxious again.  
Her eyes wandered all over the other woman, passing over the curves and valleys and lingering on the hips, the calves, her wrists. 

Bette sat down on the blanket, as far away as she possibly could. 

“Come here.”, Joan patted next to her. 

Bette rolled her eyes, but turned, laying down next to the woman, arms at her side. 

“Here Bette.”, Joan Held out her arms. 

And there they were, Bettes bare back against Joans front, laying on the beach in god knows where, no one around but the seagulls and a few butterflies. 

They stirred again, when the sun got shaded by a few clouds, the warmth suddenly missing. Joan rubbed Bettes arms, who had been in and out of sleep for the last few minutes. 

“Feel better?”, she asked and pressed a gentle kiss on the neck of the blonde. 

“I’ve been thinking Lucille.”, Bette turned around. 

“I’m glad your brain is still working.” joan smiled mildly. 

“I’ve never felt like this.”, Bette wrapped her arms around herself. “Not with a man, certainly not with a woman.”, she shook her head.  
“I think about you all day long. From the moment I wake up, to the moment I go to sleep. Ever since I’ve met you, you were in my mind. Rent free I might add.” She chuckled. 

“ I enjoy your presence tremendously.”, Joan relaxed a bit, she hadn’t noticed how tensed up she had been. 

“It’s the only thing that matters right now Bette.”, the brunette played with the blondes hair. 

“We hated each other for so long.” Bette shook her head regretfully. 

“I never hated you.”, the sun was coming back out, lighting up both faces. Joan studied the royal features of the woman sitting in front of her. 

“I think I always was in l-“,she nearly said it out loud but stopped herself from catastrophe right the second Bette realised what she was going to say. 

They fell quiet, the weight of the situation far to big. The sun sinking further down the sky as they contemplated. 

When the clouds covered the sun again, they packed up. Driving back in silence, listening to the radio. 

When they opened the gates to the house, Joan smiled. 

“Want to see the guest room?”, she waved for Mamacita to collect a few things for Bette and lead her though the house. 

“Will this be alright?”, she sat down on the king sized bed, patting the rose covers. 

“Better than the couch.”, Bette smiled tiredly. “I haven’t thought about him all day, Lucille.” 

She shook her head. “All day long. And I’m his wife. You just take up too much space in my head.”

They both stared at each other for a moment. Phillip entered the room. 

“Where were you?,” he quipped, apparently angry. 

“Oh here and there.”, Bette watched as Joan practically collapsed into herself, the confidence leaving her body. 

“We’ve been out. Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Mr.Terry”, Bette shot forward, not forgetting her manners. 

“Oh hi Bette.”, he smiled amused. “No problem?”, the confusion was written all over his face. 

“Yes. Bette is staying here.”, Joan got off the bed. 

“Goodnight Bette.”, Phillip grabbed Joan at her waist, pulling her with him, leaving Bette alone in the hell of a room out of pinks and yellows. 

“What the fuck is she doing here?”, Phillip hushed. 

“Im letting a friend stay here.”, Joan tore her arm away, he had hurt her again, the skin already red. 

“A friend?”, he exhaled. “You hated her 2 weeks ago, Joan.”

“Things change. Get used to it.”, she got angry, wanting to leave to her own bed. 

“Your not leaving. I’m your husband, and your are going to sleep in my bed.”, he pulled her with him and flung her on his bed. When he forced himself onto her she did not protest. Joan had leaned early that it was not worth it. It only made things worse. 

When he finished, he collapsed onto her, trapping her under his body. She cried silently, waiting for him to fall asleep. 

When he finally started snoring, it took her all her strength to push him off her chest and she left the room on quiet feet. 

Bette opened her door, when she passed by. 

“Are you alright?”, she asked. 

“Yeah.”, Joan quickly tried to seem okay. 

“Get in here.”, the moonlight lit the way to the big bed. 

Bette climbed back in, holding the blanket open, for Joan to join her. When the brunette lay down, Bette hugged her as tightly as she could. 

“I hate when they do that.”, she whispered, Joan crying uncontrollably now. 

“Hush, sweet darling.”, Bette dried her tears and left wet kisses on her cheeks and soon Joan fell asleep, exhausted by the emotions. Bette held her tight all through the night and they danced together in their dreams. 

They both woke up a few hours later, it was still dark outside.


	14. Chapter 14

They both stirred under the thin sheets, bodies pressed against each other, unclear if it were Bettes arms around Joan or Joans arms around Bette, legs tangled into a messy knot. It was as if their bodies decided to morph into one. 

Bettes started to stroke the brunettes back, the satin slip moving aside, one halter slipping over the freckled shoulder. Bette did not look at her, staring absentmindedly out of the window, the moon shining directly into the chambers. 

Joan Held still, both of her hands on Bettes neck, her face buried above her chest. They both listened to the other ones breath, closing their eyes once again. 

Bette dragged her hands to the front of Joans body, landing on her collarbones, going over them again and again and again. Then caressing downwards, toying with the edge of the fallen strap. Going over the curve of Joans chest. She got dangerously close to her nipple once and Joans breath hitched, the sound the only thing they could hear. 

They shifted, Joans eyes now wide open. Bette held her eyes shut, as if she was scared to do it again, scared of the reaction she had caused. But her face was relaxed, and Joan watched as the blonde slipped her hands down further again, her index finger brushing her nipple once more. 

Joan knew, if she said anything now, the moment would be ruined, so she stayed quiet and let the blonde explore her chest, over her nightgown, carefully as if Joan was something precious. 

She was breathless now, her chest rising and falling quickly, and Bette slipped her fingers into the off white satin, making contact with the skin. Joan pushed the strap off her shoulder, so that Bette gained full access, the blonde just taking in her small chest into the slender fingers. 

Then Joan began stroking up and down Bettes shoulder, brushing over the band of cotton, that held up the other woman’s night gown as if in question. Bette still had her eyes closed watching Joan with her fingers and nodded. 

Joan pushed the strap down, watching the cotton reveal what she had been seeking. 

Bette was on her side now, Joan on her back, the brunette hair falling back into the pillow, one hand on Bettes chest. Her fingers were making paths across the skin, marvelling the perfection she found. 

Bette bend forward, now telling herself, that she could be brave, and closed her mouth around Joans nipple, the woman making small noises under her lips. 

She bit down and Joan sighed into her mouth. 

“Again.”, her voice was so deep, hoarse, so slick with what Bette caused her to feel. 

Bette did it again, and again until Joan was nearly crying from frustration. 

“Bette.”, she pleaded and the blondes eyes shot open. 

She sank down, resting her head on the brunettes chest, her full body in contact with the half naked woman, her own bare breasts touching the silk of the gown that had been pushed down to the waist. Joan held her head, touching her hair. 

“I don’t know how.”, Bette whispered, so quietly that Joan nearly missed it. 

“Just.”, Joan propped herself up a bit, trying to find Bettes eyes and smiled softly. 

Bette looked up at her, the uneasiness written all over her face. 

“I don’t want to do anything wrong, Lucille.”

“I don’t think you can do anything awry.” 

Bette placed her head down on the slim waist again. “Tell that to my shithole of a husband.”, she chuckled, the vibration of it tickling Joan and they both laughed quietly for a moment. 

Bette moved herself upwards, when they quieted down and placed a hand on Joans cheek kissing her so longingly that Joan nearly cried. No one had ever worth shipped her Like that and she felt perfect for once. 

After a while of slow kisses Bette moved down again, placing wet, swollen lips all over the body. They had kicked of the blankets long ago, and now Bette wished she had something to hide under. 

When she reached Joans bellybutton, she pushed down the silk, Joan lifting her hips to help get rid of the garment. She did not wear anything else, Bette found. Sliding down even lower she looked up, placing her body between the long legs. The sight of the blond between them nearly send Joan over the edge already. 

Her legs fell open, bending her knees and propping them up beside Bettes face, she took a deep breath. 

Bette studied what she had uncovered, for a long time. Her hot breath hitting Joans swollen middle, tingling. Her hands fell onto Joans hips, digging deep into the skin, and Joan tried her best not to make to much noise.

She failed as soon as Bette placed a timid kiss onto upper thighs. The small kisses turned into licking, the upper thighs now wet from saliva and other fluids. 

“Bette.”, she panted, her chest glistening with sweat. 

“Please.”, she threw her head back, as Bette leaned in, cupping the whole sex with her mouth.   
She had decided to just do what she enjoyed herself, as one could not be so different from the other and so she ran her flat tongue over the folds, wet and slick. Joan muffled her cries with her hand, biting down as hard as she could, it would leave a mark, but she did not care. 

When Bette had found a rhythm the anxiety left, her body now overcoming with arousal. It tasted Devine, like nothing she had ever enjoyed. Joan was heaving under her, unable to stop the sounds, the little “shit”s, and hushed “yes there” that left the mouth without filter. 

She was near and started to beg for more and more and more.

Bette removed her right hand form the hip, stopping shortly with her licking and sucking, just moving her finger through the mess she created. And then she slipped the finger into the Warmth. Joan practically yelled out loud, the only thing preventing the whole house to wake up was the hand that covered her mouth. 

Bette found a new favourite thing to do. She curled her finger, pushing it in and out, then after a few seconds added another one and pushed into the brunette, leaning back in and licking with all her force, her jaw hurt and her fingers cramped, but she did not care. All that matters was Joan. 

The brunette came so hard, she nearly blacked out. Her body convulsed under the other, bending and twisting and twitching until she collapsed. 

She could not speak for a while, just trying to regain consciousness. When she got her breath back under control she cried, tears running down her face, overwhelmed by the emotions. 

“You can’t tell me you have never done this Bette.”, she finally lay back. 

“Guess I’m a natural.”, Bette kissed her, Joans fluids still covering her face, letting her own tears mix in with everything else. They hugged each other for a long time, and as the sweat grew cold Joan searched for the covers. 

Just before Bette closed her eyes, she felt the long fingers removing her nightgown. 

“It’s your turn now.”, Joan smiled mischievously.


	15. Chapter 15

Bette was ready. She was so ready, her legs already spreading, and Joan wanted to do nothing more than to obey to the little pleading affiliations, Bette was mindlessly husking. 

But then again, Joan never was one to go by directions. She decided she would take her damn time. 

„Bette, dear.“, she whispered in the blondes ear. 

„Please. Lucille.“, Bette squirmed under the soft stroking over her arms and belly. 

„Let’s not hurry.“, Joan smiled, her freckled nose pressed against the soft cheekbones. 

„I-,“ the blonde yelped as Joan kissed her neck, her arms, her hands. She licked her way back up to the reddened face.

„Yes, Love?“, Joan played sweet and innocent. 

„Lucille I need-.“, Talking became increasingly difficult for her, as Joan put her skilful tongue to her chest, never touching her nipple, only the skin around it. 

„What do you need.“, Joan blew cold air onto the skin, smiling as the woman shivered. 

Bette huffed, her gaze wandered straight up to the ceiling, spotting the large mirror that had been hung there. 

Joan followed her eyes, looking at herself. Her naked body splayed oh the bed, lying so, that she would not touch Bette in anyway that she could rub herself against Joan. 

Bette would not look away, so Joan started to kiss her body again. 

„I need you to touch me.“, She was panting now, entranced by the view. 

„I am.“, Joan chuckled. 

Bette snapped her head back. 

„God damn it Lucille, I need you to fuck me, or else I will most certainly die.“, she wanted to sound angry, but her voice came out as desperate. 

„All Good things take time.“, Joan closed her soft lips around Bettes breast, licking Ain small circles. The cries the woman made filling the air. After a while she switched to the other breast. 

Bette huffed, trying to slide her own hands between her legs, where the arousal seeped into the bed, coating her thighs. 

Joan caught her, forcing the hands back up, with surprising strength. 

„Oh Betts.“, she smiled. „If you can’t behave, I’m going to have to resort to others midst.“, she left a baffled Bette on the bed, coming back a few moments later with a satin band. 

„Hands up.“, she ordered, the blonde obeying. 

She tied the hands tightly, making sure there was enough room, so Bette would not be hurt, then tying the wrists to an iron nook on the headboard.

„I’m glad I got that installed.“, she smiled proud of herself. 

„Is This alright?“, she looked Bette into her eyes. „If this gets to much, just tell me, okay?“, Bette nodded, unable to speak, as she gulped. 

Joan placed herself between the legs, looking up. 

Bette had her gaze set on Joan, her eyes deep and blue, her legs shaking visibly now. 

„So inpatient.“, Joan spoke the air hitting wetness. 

And then she leaned in, Bette crying out loud, probably waking the house, and Joan took her time. She licked every nook, every fold, the throbbing entrance and everything in between, her face covered in slick fluids. 

„You taste so good.“, she moaned, as Bette started to feel light headed, as if she might pass out. 

And then it was time, Bette could not hold on any longer, so Joan increased her speed, using her flat tongue and soon after felt a gash of fluids hit her chin. Bette did not make a noise, as her back lifted from the bed, pulsing under Joans work. Her expression was in sheer bliss, Joan wasn’t quite sure if she had broken the woman, as she fell back with a loud thump and did not move for a few moments, not even breathing, her hands still hooked to the bed. 

Then Bette took a deep shaky breath, opening her eyes, now filled with tears and exhaustion. 

Joan crawled up, to release her, and they both curled under the duvet, covered in sweat and tears and saliva. Sleep overcame them, both pressed against the sticky body of the other. 

Just before Joan fell asleep she heard Bette whisper into her hair: „I love you Lucille, I’m not sure why, but I do.“


End file.
